Story Telling
by Shade105
Summary: As the world is being rebuilt, the tradition of story telling has returned. Cynder is set with the task of telling a tale, but what will happen when she begins to have visions of her past once more. SxC story. Edit: Moved to M for dark theme, and lime
1. Prologue

**A/N: Hey guys! Wazzup!**

**I have finally decided to return to the Spyro community and what the hey, begin a full course SPyro fic. IDK, this is the prologue, s give me advice on where to continue and if you have any ideas give give; i love ideas.**

**Critizism is good too. I wanna see where i need to work on harder. Errors make you perfect, and if someone notices them that's awesome.**

**Anyways, please enjoy**

* * *

Story Telling

**Prologue: **

It had become a tradition for the two dragons and the rest of the feline community to come together every week, for their tale telling. The entire tradition had started upon the task that had been placed on all being alike to rebuild the world of the future; a task so immortal, and difficult.

There had to be times of peace and rest though, and this was the perfect scapegoat. In the ruins of the torn down dragon city, near what used to be the old forum, they would meet. At times it was just the two young dragons, with the entire feline community of Avalar. Other times Sparx would join, or even the guardians. Even in some rare occasions, the never-resting moles would attend; a clear sign that everyone loved the art and charisma of a story, dragon ancient or laborious rodent alike.

The rules of attending were simple: One, if you have attended at least a single time, you would have to promise to come once more to tell a tale of your own. Two, everyone must listen very attentively at the stories told upon The Rock; a large piece of stone that had fallen from the buildings, that now worked as a perfect podium. Three, the stories told had to be spoken in an understandable manner. Lastly, four, you would have to bring your own torch or candle upon coming; for sakes of visibility.

There they all were, as they sat and carefully listened to each word told. Some would sit in small stools; others would bring chairs and tables of elaborate decorations. Many would just remain on the floor.

There was something that kept them in union though, and that was fire. No matter how fancy or poor one's torch or candle hold would be, they all felt the warmth of the same kind of flame. They all were embraced by the singular color of this light; the light of good. In this reunion of many that thought they where be unalike to their neighbor, by species or ideals, they would break those small barriers; they where all one under the darkness, protected by the justness of light.

This is why Spyro had named their small creation "Souls of the Fire". To the name everyone agreed. It was a just name, and it fit the event of doing this in the darkness. A union kept secret by all its members, from its members, to bring all difference alike.

The two young dragon founders of the group always sat at the front row, upon a soft patch of hay they would set here every night just before the meeting. They would always listen very diligently to the stories told every day; especially the young dragoness, Cynder. Art was one of the aspects of life that most caught her attention. It was incredible to her to see how one's words could paint an image as greatly created as the ancestor's world. Each noun, each detail that was anew caught the former dark dragoness even more.

The tales would vary in all ways imaginable. Some of the stories told would be those well known by the entire common crowd. Ancient stories of legendary warriors that fought for justice would be repeated here, just for the sake of bringing commemoration to these of the past.

Other times, a new story was told. Fictional tales would take all of those who sat into entirely different worlds of green and gray, where a common mole or even a great dragon would fight against all odds to bring righteousness. Some of the story tellers would simply create an exaggerated version of Spyro's tale, and added more everything. The version Spyro was most humored by was when he had been created into this kind of women-wooer hero. Every night he would see a different lady, and with each these nights, the poor dragoness Cynder only fell more love with him. The true Cynder would only chuckle, and shake her head in disapproval. She would blush deeply though, every time Spyro looked at her and grinned with that ever kind smile. The sense of embarrassment within her would only worsen as the tale teller would bring them together, and would make them mates.

She wished for this though, with all her heart and will. Even if she thought Spyro did not feel alike.

Ever since that one day everything had changed for Cynder, and her feelings would now be retained. She had told him those powerful words at what appeared to be the coming of their death; "I love you". Love him she did indeed, loved, and still loves him with all her will. On that day, though, things had not been placed as Cynder thought they would. She had told him those words, but ever since he had not spoken of them. The purple dragon appeared to keep them out of his mind, or act as if he had never heard them in the first place. The black dragoness wondered oh so deeply why this was so. Perhaps he had not truly listened? Maybe he truly just wanted to remain friends with her? She did not know so, but as her mind craved for an answer she came to the most likely one.

Spyro only wished for a friend relationship, she thought. The dragoness would agree to this, true or not, and would keep him as exclusively a friend; a friend she loved with all her body and spirit.

----------------

The tale told on this night was one of comedy. A mole had arrived in this due time of darkness to speak of his misadventure caused by a pure misunderstanding. The young fellow had been kicked out of his own household as he had come too late at night. His wife had become furious, and thought him to be cheating on her. After he was taken out of his own house by several whacks of a miniature broom, the lad had decided to travel out and look for shelter for the night. It was then when only more misfortunes came down on him.

Here the entire crowd sat and laughed at the sad-happenings of this creature. It was a fine thing to do though, as the mole himself chuckled at curse that had fallen upon him. Even the small lad's wife laughed along, stomping down on the floor as she could not resist and hold her upright form anymore. And to believe the only reason he had come late that night was due to the fact that he looked for the perfect gift for his wife. A large beautiful gold necklace with a precious emerald incrusted in the pendant it held. The mole's wife held this token of love dearly now, and wore every day without exception.

As this fellow had finished with his nightly tale Hunter decided to rise from the patterned carpet he sat on, and walked up and onto The Rock. As Hunter fixed the cloak on his back to fit more comfortable, he looked out into the crowd. As Spyro had said it, it was a majestic scene indeed. Here sat over forty beings on a large crater that had been created upon the old forum of the town. Torn pieces of the buildings and other ruins peaked over them, and caused the area to look even more sheltered. It was inevitable not to notice the shine on everyone's eyes as they sat near the fires of the people. Each held a different glitter in their eyes, Spyro had said. Hunter smiled; the dragon was correct indeed.

Any who stood on the podium could see to the deepest core of anyone's soul as they simply stared in the direction. There was nothing more majestic then this.

"Well, that was a wonderfully story of yours there, my friend," the tall feline spoke as he looked towards the mole who had returned to his chair. As the small rodent took a small sip of the warm cider his companion had held for him, he smiled. Hunter smiled in return, and bowed his head slightly. "And indeed you two are still deeply in love."

"In love we are indeed," the mole raised his voice from the crowd, as he softly embraced his wife, and pecked her on the cheek generously. The crowd looked in their direction; some awing, others laughing. The wife of this fellow only embraced the mole in return, and giggled fervently.

Hunter cleared his throat, only to return the crowds attention to him. "Well my fellow companions, as it is far beyond midnight and the stars burn at their full, we will close this night down with a warm goodnight." The feline raised his arms to reach out to the crowd in a warm manner. He smiled as he stared down to his two closest companions; Spyro and Cynder. They looked towards him with optimistic eyes, and smiled once they had noticed they were being recognized.

'If only they were a couple,' Hunter snickered deep in his mind as he noticed the similarities in both of their warm spirits. They had always been very close, but had not yet come to agree that a relationship was in need. Their love for each other was so notorious that anyone with a mild eye-sight could point this out. He figured the only two who could not tell were the dragons themselves.

"As I have said, we will say goodnight now, and will wait for our next meeting; one week from today." He looked about the attentive crowd once more, and bowed in humbleness. "I thank everyone that participated today with my deepest recognition, and hope we can see more of this next time we meet." His gaze was brought again to the dragons near him; he straightened his back as he stared to Spyro. "Now, do you wish to say anything before you go, my friend?" The purple dragon shook his head, but rose to his fours. He turned to the crowd, and bowed in a courteous manner as well.

"I thank anyone who has come here tonight," the purple dragon spoke out in a strong tone. The signs of his adulthood kicking in were revealed in his deepened voice. The dragon was seventeen after all, and he aged in a hastened way. Cynder could not help but to complement how different this new voice of his was. Ever since they broke out from the crystal she could not help but to agree that they had both grown, especially the purple dragon. He looked less like a whelping, and now had the aspects of a leader. He grew fine indeed. "I also pray for you all to have a fine night," Spyro concluded, as his eyes shifted to Cynder. "Have a good night, my companions."

With this the meeting had concluded, and everyone was headed back to their homes in a steady pace. Spyro and Cynder walked back with Hunter in this night, and complemented everything said along the meeting. There was something strange about the situation though; Cynder was not as lively as she had been in previous days.

In fact, she was downright serious. The dragoness was not like she was commonly, but instead she remained in complete silence. There was something in her mind, and that was the task of creating a story.

That was correct; it was finally Cynder's turn to tell a story. She had been pushed into promising a tale by the week that was to come. "By the first week of winter," she had said the summer before. For the dragoness, this was far to soon.

What was she to do?

**Please comment.**

**Thankies!**


	2. The Shadow of the Moons

**A/N: ****Alright, so here is the first chapter of Story telling. I hope you all enjoy the beggining of this project im working on, and would be please to hear what everyone thinks.**

**If you have any suggestions or what-not just tell me. Please if you do see an error as well, or anything that sounds odd, go ahead nd speak. Im totally open to it! ^_^**

* * *

**Chapter one: **The shadow of the moons-

"Alright, so it's just a story, one! How hard could this be?"

In the midst of the night, a day oh so near to the beginning of winter, laid the black dragoness in the small balcony. Cynder rests her head on the small hold she makes for herself by a simple cross of her forearms. A small bottle of ink laid at her right; a feather pen within this. At her left was a pile of papers, each either crumbled or torn completely. The dragoness' fears had become a reality. Creating a story was extremely difficult; or at least more challenging than Spyro had made it appear.

Here was the young dragoness, as she burned her mind with a difficult task. Cynder had not even managed to get a good beginning to her story; and the task of making a first sentence had become more of a trouble then fighting Malefor himself. She did not let this consume her, and the female raised her head. She sighed deeply, as shook her head. The breath she exhaled immediately became a visible mist, and Cynder suddenly discovered how cold she was. The female shivered violently, and let her body complain from the full chill. Cynder did not like the cold at the least. There was only one thing worse than it, and that was snow.

"It truly is cold," the dragoness permitted herself to say as she stared to the sky. The two moons in the heavens above glittered beautifully tonight. It was on this night that the moons would actually be closest together for the year. The larger sphere of the night cast a shadow upon the other, and a partial eclipse had been created.

'If only I could create like the ancestors who made this world,' Cynder thought in a wishful tone.

Spyro made it look all so easy. He could walk up on The Rock once a week or so, and without troubles would start to create a world from the top of his head. If there was something Spyro had developed really well in his life, Cynder concluded, it was his imagination. That of course didn't include the other things he had developed; like his intelligence, battle strategies, and his physique. Yes… his physique… Cynder purred at the thought, but suddenly shook her head to keep it out of the clouds. She had to remain focused. At least for long enough

'How does he do it though?' Cynder stray her mind once more. 'He… he just does it…' She came to think about it for a moment, and remembered that even when in youth it was not difficult for him. His stories were always perfect, and would easily cause the dragoness to rest in peace. Back then, when she had just been saved from being a puppet, too many things ran through her mind; death, torture, horror and terror. If it wasn't for the small stories he would tell her each night, she would not have made it through that stage of her life. The story she enjoyed the most was that of a dragoness princes, who, stuck on a tower by an evil wizard ape, was saved by a young dragon traveler. The she dragon blushed lightly as she remembered the countless times she had told him to repeat this story for her.

"Anyways," Cynder spoke out after she had allowed the warm feeling of the flush run through her. It was almost in a matter of a second that she felt the power of the coming winter strike her again. She shivered, and shook her head once more. As she sighed, the dragoness noticed her breath appear in the dim glow of the torch alit. "Back to business."

The dragoness looked at the scroll in front of her again. She noticed the various scribbles she had put on them. The female also noticed a small drawing of a dragon she had created with her own paws. It looked much too alike Spyro.

"uuhhh…" Cynder let herself exasperate in defeat. "I'm getting nowhere." She decided to turn and roll onto her back. As she forced her wings to lie flat, the female pushed her entire body. Once on her backside, Cynder closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. Her mind worked as hard as it could; but no matter what, she only felt uncomfortable. The former queen of darkness felt the head of a nail drive itself in between two of her ribs. She grunted as she scooted her body afar from it. Cynder had never felt so shifty or restless on the wood balcony before. Now, even the slightest rupture in the wood made her wish she was not there. She looked to the sky though, and tried to ignore her shiftiness. The stars, the holes on the celestial heaven, shone brightly tonight. The light they gave off made the details of the Dragon City acquire a mystic appeal to them. The ruins and new buildings -made only the summer before- glowed in a whitish-gray hue. Cynder's eyes moved down to them, and she gasped at the mere beauty.

"Perhaps I could tell a story about a city…" Cynder whispered as she gazed towards the delightful sight. She rolled her eyes though, and shifted to her side. "No, that simply won't do." She bit her bottom lip softly; as she gazed to the dispraised paper she had dribbled on. Her eyes focused on the small drawing of the purple dragon she had created

"Or maybe… No." She placed a paw on her face, and covered her eyes. "That'd be too embarrassing." The dragoness sighed, as she blushed lightly. "What would he think about it anyways?" Slowly the she-dragon removed the paw from her face, and took a grasp of the paper sheet. Once she had it in her hand, she crushed it and sympathetically threw it into the pile where the other scraps laid.

'I'm just getting nowhere,' Cynder thought as she admitted to defeat once again. 'It's just too impossible.' As she moved to rise herself, she gazed at the scraps.

"Tomorrow," she told herself out loud. A strong whisk of wind suddenly kicked in, and caused the waste of papers Cynder had created to suddenly raise into the sky. As Cynder watched these papers disappear into the sweet and silent darkness, she yawned. The female was tired and downright worn. She needed to rest, and that's the only thing her mind came to think of now.

"Tomorrow for sure," Cynder reassured herself.

* * *

_As Cynder lay under the night sky her body shivered lightly, and revealed how truly fragile even the strongest of creatures could be. Spyro was here, and watched her as the night's moons made her even more beautiful then she already was. Her curves, her slim waist, and her strong back showed true radiance. The purple dragon had never wished for her as much as he did at that moment._

_He did not understand though. When young he had cared for her in a very innocent manner. The purple dragon always was extremely fragile with her in general. He loved her in the way anyone would love the person they wished to be well; things were different now though. He wanted more from her, and that was for sure. What he truly feared was finding out what he really wanted. The dragon gulped deeply, as the female's beauty seduced him._

'_I truly love her,' Spyro concluded within his mind. 'I want her…' It was then that the prophecy's dragon shook his head violently, to try to snap out of a state of mind he did not enjoy. _

'_No…' he thought. 'I… I can't…She doesn't love me anyways.' As he gazed away from the sleeping dragoness, he let the fixating sensation of a slow catch of cold air strike him. The night was cold to the bone, and the male felt as if he breathed ice. He looked back to the young female, and focused his mind on the environment around. Lush grass grew around her wondrous form, and became like a perfect layer of comfort for the dragoness. Behind her grew a wide sea of trees; all complied tightly. The beauty of the valley of Avalar only complemented to the dragoness' splendor. Spyro slowly approached her, and let a small breath escape from his muzzle. The small sigh was painful, and warm._

'_I must see to it that she is protected.' _

"_GET THEM!!!"_

_It was then that, almost on cue, a force of apes suddenly charged from the forest behind the female_._ Everything became surreal for the purple dragon as time seemed to slow down. The male's heart beat began to speed up as he noted that the apes drew their blades from the waistline, and roared in rage. As the sharp blades were drawn, they suddenly charged in the direction of the purple dragon's female companion. Spyro's eyes grew wide and his jaw dropped as they approached their target._

"_Cynder!" the dragon shouted in full fury as he ran with all his strength to intercept the onward enemy. He pumped his hind legs forearms as hard as they would go. The muscles on his body rippled as they were used to push themselves as hard as they could on the perfect-green grass. He was not making it though, and time seemed to travel even slower as the apes got only a meter's length away from the female._ _T__he ape closest to her arched his back in preparation for the blow he would soon land, and with his right arm he struck._

"_Noooooo!" Spyro shouted as the female took the hit. Her body was driven violently, and she stumbled upon the floor in a horrid manner as she was flung away. Luckily the ape had not struck properly, and the blade was tilted slightly at the moment of impact; blood had still been drawn though. A horrid gash now appeared under the females ribs, and blood seeped from the wound. The young dragoness had not awakened though, and this terrified the purple dragon._

"_Cynder!" The male shouted as he came in contact with the opponents. The first strike he blew was towards the one who had injured the female. Anger and hate rushed through his veins as Spyro made a violent upper-cut with his claws. The armor the ape wore was immediately destroyed, and a large strip of flesh was torn out in the strike. The poor creature shouted in agony as it took flight and landed in front of its comrades. _

_It was little after the ape struck that the enemies pressed on. One of the still standing apes moved to the dragon now. He raised his sword and revealed its fine craftsmanship. The weapon blade was slightly curved for a better and cleaner cut; Spyro did not mind this by one bit though. As the dragon's opponent struck down, he swiftly dodged to the side. The ape swung too powerfully, and the blade stuck itself deep into the earth below. The purple dragon used this as an advantage, and as he stood on his flank he attacked. His claws moved in an extraordinary manner as he slashed the ape on the face, swung a low punch to the beings hips, and at last burst a torrent of flames at the creature. Fire made immediate contact with the moist grass below, and a burst of smoke and steam rose out. The opponent he has just faced was dead for sure, but the new obstacle for his vision only turned against him. _

_Three apes, the strongest at that, came down on the male dragon from the endless clouds of smoke. Spyro was taken by surprise, and with little resistance was tied down by a strong chain composed of some powerful metalloid. In a matter of moments he had been tied in an extremely well done form. His wrists were stuck together now, as well as his shins. The dragon roared at his opponents as he attempted to force the ties off. For a second he thought of using his elements, but before long he had been muzzled too. Finally the smoke had been cleared, and a larger ape was visible in between the over-rampage of these creatures. _

"_We finally have the two dragons," the ape spoke in an extremely deep tone. "And our boss thought we could not do it! We proved him wrong, right men!" The apes shouted and screeched in victory as they slowly returned to their leader. Two of the larger apes stayed with the purple dragon though. They lifted him, and moved him closer to the commander of his enemies. "Now… let's see this so called 'prophesies' dragon."_

_As the apes reached the leader's front, they tossed the dragon down with a quick and rough movement. The dragon took some air and crashed onto the darkened floor violently. He rolled several times, and ended up dead and upfront with this so called 'leader'. Spyro hissed and growled. Steam rose from his nostril, but only caused the commander to laugh._

"_So you have no respect with higher authorities after all, boy." He inclined down and glared at the purple dragon. As he revealed his sharp fangs, Spyro felt the horrid stench of his breath fill his lungs "Well then, I guess we'll have to torture you…" He rose up, and looked at his lackeys. "Get the female."_

_As Spyro heard the words, he immediately began to struggle harder then before. No… no he thought. This could not be happening to them. He could not fail her!_

_The purple dragon began to struggle with his binds, but was not successful at the least; the chains barely resisted, but did not give out. Small, hot tears ran down his cheeks as he struggled with the thought of Cynder in danger; his own pain only worsened it. As the apes ordered to head out finally returned, they came back with the dragoness. Cynder was in a worse condition then before. She had bled out a significant amount of blood. Her body appeared to be slightly paler; but she still slept. The purple dragon's eyes grew larger as he stared at the dying female. He struggled harder against his binds, but with no success. Spyro tried to speak out, but was only muffled by the ropes that were wrapped about his snout._

"_W---ke –p Cyn!" his voice could be heard. "W—e u---!!!" As the commander of the apes moved to the weakened dragoness, he pulled out a small and well sharpened knife. His eyes looked to the female's neck, and slowly he leaned down. _

"_W----ke uuuuup!"_

"_Wa--- ----p"_

'_WAKE UUUUUUUUP!'_

* * *

And as the dream had gone far beyond his control, the male dragon woke up…

**Please comment.**

**Thankies!**


	3. Awakening

**A/N: Hey guys, Shade coming to you live! xD**

**Anyways, I decided I was going to continue this fic because of the potential it has. I was browsing about, and noticed how sweet this fic was looking, so here's another chapter for you all.**

**I decided that I'm going to work the relationship up slowly, so people, you will all have to enjoy the joys of a long build up with a lot of cock blocks! hahahaha! Damn I'm evil. But don't worry, the lemon will come! xD  
**

**Anyways...**

* * *

**Chapter Two:** Awakening -

The dragon rose with a sudden and violent jolt as a cracked yelp escaped his dry throat. Spyro sweated heavily, and his tense body hurt from the nightmare he had had but a moment ago. The air was hot about him, aside the fact that they were in the midst of the Season of Ice. The savior looked about for a moment, wondering if he had caused any disturbances in the room with his small cry.

The room was made purely of stone, as it was what had once been the guardians' temple in Warfang. The fine adobe colored room was dark, aside the small lights that glowed dimly about the frame of the magic-powered door. The soft yellow glow was soothing to the dragon, for it had been a costume of him to sleep with some kind of light upon him. If there was something the purple savior hated, it was pitch black darkness.

The dragon's eyes scrolled through the entire room. They went from the door to the scattered scrolls on the floor, and from the ink splotch that could hardly be seen in the low illumination, to his hay stack. He then lifted his head higher as he peaked towards Sparx' small resting nest. The dragonfly turned to his side with the noise he had heard, but aside that the room was peaceful.

Spyro sighed softly as he looked down and closed his eyes. His body slowly relaxed, and the cool of the season could now be felt in the slightest of manners. But even if the dragon would have loosened up entirely, rest would not come back. The horrid dream still struck his mind, and danced through the very edge of his imagination. He tensed up once more as he remembered that last torturous moment; the smell of blood mixed with the winds chill, and the cries of the victorious apes. The thoughts were pure terror to him.

As he rose from his hay stack, unable to remain in the spot in tranquility, an even more frightening thought crossed his mind: he was unable to protect Cynder in her moment of need. He knew that it was nothing but a dream, but if the moment came, could he actually save her life? The idea was ever torturous.

'B-but I've been able to save her before,' he remarked to himself in thought. 'I've protected her before… Why couldn't I do it again?' The dragon began to move, and headed himself towards the door instinctively. As he reached the entrance, the lights about the frame lit up, and the two stone flaps slid out of the way as to give the purple dragon access to the hallway ahead. The dragon walked out silently, and the door that was now behind closed quickly. The hallway was lit by the crystals of the walls, and the smell of stale stone could be sensed in the surroundings. Snow had been late this Season of Ice, and the air was nothing but dry.

Spyro's half lit eyes turned to the left, and he began to head in that direction of the hall. The dragon's claws made a loud tap in the perfect silence that the night held.

'But… why am I worrying so much about Cynder?' he asked himself. 'I've been over-worrying for over a week now, but I don't understand why." He remember the past week, and how when it came to working on rebuilding Dragon City, the purple dragon was always concerned about the black dragoness' well-being. He always made sure that she could do what she was assigned, and that if anything was a little too difficult for her to do, or too heavy for her to lift, the dragon was always there. Something about aiding her in times of needs pleased him. It had gotten to the point where it was hard for the purple dragon not to think about the dragoness.

'But then again,' Spyro concluded in thought. 'Haven't I been thinking about her constantly ever since I saved her?' The fact was true; his thoughts had been surrounded by Cynder ever since that moment. The moment the dragon saved the former terror of the skies from her star-crossed fate, seeing that she would be happy and well became one of Spyro's main priorities. Perhaps it was one of the reasons that Sparx hated the dragoness so much; or at least used to.

But this concern towards her was different. The worries that came to him weren't the usual ones; and then again, there was that new 'attraction' to her. It was so new, so exhilarating to Spyro's being. Every time the feeling rushed to him, he felt heavy, but light; weak, yet strong. The slightest touch or feel by the winds cool chill would make him lift his chest, and he could do nothing but to allow the emotion to devour him.

'But it's not right to allow that feeling to take me, or is it?' Spyro pondered. He sighed. 'I don't even know exactly what the feeling is.'

As the savior came to a stop, he suddenly realized that his unconscious steps had led him nowhere but Cynder's dormitory. The dragon had entered without even paying attention, and as soon as he did catch himself, he simply stared about dumbfounded.

He wondered why he had come here, to Cynder's neat and very clean room. As he began to move into the center of the room, the clean scent of dried 'dragon's flower' filled his nostrils, and sunk into his lungs. He breathed out in pleasure as the sweet and fruity smell of the flora escaped him, and slowly he breathed in again. Cynder loved flowers indeed, and if she had the chance, she would cover the entire temple with them; time was scarce though.

Spyro scanned the room as he searched for Cynder. Organization was more than a present aurora in the room. Opposite to Spyro, all of Cynder's scrolls and books were neatly arranged and placed delicately. The black dragoness' coquet mannerisms were present in the perfectly placed flowers on the table by the window. Her hay stack was placed finely upon the floor atop a mat; not a single straw was out of place. All was perfect, and nothing but perfect.

But Cynder was not in the room, and that troubled the purple savior. He rose his eye ridges up in concern, and searched in vain once again. She wasn't present.

"Where could you be… Cynder?" he asked himself in soft whisper. It was then when another thought struck the feeble tranquility that the room's ambience had placed him in: What if Cynder had escaped from them again. He knew it sounded odd to think of her doing such a thing, but then again… What if she had left them because he never reacted towards those words on the day of destruction.

"No… No." He remarked to himself in a trembling voice, as he moved in circles about the room. "She couldn't have left us… I mean… no!" The dragon's fear quickly turned into panic, and he searched franticly. It wasn't until he heard a soft noise in the balcony, accompanied with a muffled grunt, that the purple dragon ceased his searching rampage. He looked towards the door of the balcony, and with much care, silently began to walk towards the opening.

As soon as he was out on the wood floor of the balcony, he turned his eyes directly to the dragoness. Cynder slept uneasily on the side opposite to the entrance of the room by the finely crafted railings. Spyro gave a worried look as he noticed that the black dragoness trembled from the burning cold of night. She trembled and breathed unsteadily, the cold air making each and every of her breaths into a foggy mist. Spyro suddenly felt a sudden urge, and very rapidly went back into room to retrieve a blanket from the perfect stack that Cynder had by what appeared to be a small drawer. The purple savior moved to her side as he grasped the blanket with his muzzle. He carefully sat on his haunches next to her, and stealthily placed the sheets over her.

But Cynder became aware of Spyro's presence the moment he sat by her side; being the dragoness she had once been made it impossible for her to rest without being in an alert state. Fear of murder still realmed the dragoness' subconscious, and there was nothing she could do about it.

The former Terror of the Skies shifted as the blankets landed on her back, and quickly she looked up only to meet the purple dragon's warm and caring purple eyes. He looked at her with such sweetness, and love that her sudden jolt of panic fell. She simply blinked, and sighed softly.

"Spyro," she spoke out. "What are you doing here?" The male looked directly to her emerald eyes with a worrisome look.

"You're out all alone in the cold, Cynder," he responded in a soft tone. "I don't want you to catch a cold." The two dragons remained in the same spot for a moment, plainly looking at each other. The delicate glances became some kind of bonding moment. They could do nothing but stare at each other, reading themselves. It was only after the sound of some strange creature street creature became that the two ceased. "Why are you sleeping out here anyways?" the male dragon asked. "The Season of Ice is here." Cynder swung her head down, as she rested it in between her paws.

"I simply fell asleep here," she answered as she blinked slowly again. "I haven't had a good night's sleep though." Spyro showed a small smile, as he chuckled slightly. The feel in the air from the sharing of glances had made him uncomfortable; he needed to lighten it up a little.

"Well, I can't imagine anyone that could rest well out here in the cold," the dragon commented, as he looked up towards the celestial sky. The stars were beautifully than he had ever seen them before. They glowed brightly aside the two moons that were now precisely above them. Spyro's grin grew. "Even if it is a beautiful night." As he looked back down, he suddenly froze. The dragoness before him was as beautiful as she had been in his dream. Her perfect green eyes twinkled vividly under the glow of the night, and the ebony of her body could not fit the darkness any better. He relaxed his shoulders, as if mesmerized by the exquisiteness of the dragoness "Everything tonight is beautiful," he remarked.

Cynder looked to Spyro as he said those words, and blushed the moment she noticed that the male looked to her. Perhaps he was talking about her, she thought. She gazed up to the stars as to avoid direct eye contact with Spyro. "Yeah, everything sure is beautiful tonight."

It was then that the purple dragon quickly and suddenly laid down aside Cynder. There was some body contact now, as Spyro had laid down and pressed his side against hers. Cynder closed her eyes as she felt his perfect warmth. It was like some kind of fire was dormant in him, and like the flames of any bonfire, it gave of the perfect warmth. His strong, yet gentle body beside her only gave the dragoness a sense of tranquility.

"Mind if I lay here?" he asked in what to Cynder's hearing sounded like a coo. The dragoness smiled, in pure bliss, and shook her head.

"I don't mind at all, Spyro." She looked to the dragon, and noticed that their snouts were closer than ever. Cynder blushed more furiously as their eyes crossed paths again; Spyro was no better. They both pulled their glances away from one another immediately, as they flushed a fine crimson color.

It was then that Cynder's eyes began to give out on her. She could not be any warmer, or comfortable; so sleepiness began to fall upon her. She yawned as she pressed her body closer to the purple dragons.

"Spyro?"

"Yes?"

"Could you tell me the story of the dragon princess again?" she suddenly asked, unaware of what she said. Spyro smiled ever sweetly.

"The one I used to tell you when we were young?" the male asked with that goofy, crooked smile of his. As Cynder looked to the dragon, she suddenly caught herself, and realized what she was asking for. She stared at him, with yet another gentle blush on her visage.

"Y-yeah… That one," She remarked, nervously. "Y-you don't have to tell it to me if don't want to." Spyro shook his head as he chuckled again.

"Nonsense," Spyro replied. "I would love to, Cynder." His smile shifted from being simply friendly, and slowed some signs of attraction towards the dragoness. Cynder was not aware of such a thing, though. "It's the best I can do for my friend." Cynder looked down, and placed her head between her paws. Friend… The term fell to Cynder like a heavy boulder in the water. If only he could understand what she wanted.

…If only she could understand what she, wanted…

"How did it start again?" the dragoness asked. Spyro laid his head over his forearm, as he began to think, and remember.

"There once was a dragoness with perfect black scaled… A beautiful dragoness she was indeed…"

…If only he could tell her that without the use of the story…

**Please Comment!**

**Thankies!**


End file.
